The Devil's Drinking With Angel Eyes
by wandertogondor
Summary: Dean always liked working at bars. There was the alcohol and the generous tips and the slutty chicks looking for a fix. Not to mention his hot coworker. Co-written by the marvelous MicroPoe10!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Dean always liked working at bars. There was the alcohol and the generous tips and the slutty chicks looking for a fix. Not to mention his hot coworker. **

* * *

Lena fumbled with the beer taps absently. She began rapping her oval nails against the metal handle of the beer tap for a few seconds, eyes drifting across the span of the small bar. It was one of the slower nights of the week and, quite frankly, she wanted it to end as soon as possible.

"What's the damage tonight, Bunny?" A smooth voice asked beside her ear.

It amazed Lena how quickly her bored scowl turned into a grin at the sound of her nickname. She felt Dean's chin fall into place on the curve of her shoulder, and Lena had to catch herself against the counter to keep from keeling over under the weight of his head.

"We haven't even made a dent in it," she muttered. "It's been slow."

"Oh, yeah?" He slid past her, tying his apron around his waist, and reaching for the dish cloth. "Just my luck."

Lena went back to rapping her nails against the smooth metal surface, staring at the door and praying that nobody else would walk in. Mondays were always the slowest, except for the regulars that would mosey on in throughout the day. But for some reason things always seemed to pick up the minute Dean walked through the door. Maybe it was just her, but it seemed the only crowd that she ever attracted was those over the age of seventy. Still deep in thought about the old and wrinkly, she turned her head just as Dean bent over one of the coolers to re-stock the beer.

_Damn_, she thought to herself, a small smirk quirking across her lips. _Nothing old and wrinkly about that. _

As she did a double take staring at Dean's perfectly formed ass, she was completely unaware, at the very same moment, that she had absent-mindedly pulled down on the beer tap that she had been rapping her nails on just moments ago. The warm liquid gushed out covering the counter top and spilling over the side soaking her shirt.

"Damnit!" she hissed between her teeth, realizing what had happened a little too late.

Dean stood up and glanced over at Lena who was desperately trying to soak up the overflow of beer that had snaked across the counter and over the edge, dripping down to the wooden floorboards. He threw her a look, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, one finger poised in the air.

"You got that order?"

Lena's eyes widened. She hadn't. "The - The order?"

"Vodka special, Tom Collins, whiskey sour, two beers." He had started smiling halfway through the order, watching her face change from preoccupied to utter bewilderment.

Taking a deep breath, Lena's hands moved across the counters to clear a space before whirling around to grab two beers from the cooler. She was going out of order but if she had any common sense she'd know that getting to the easiest orders first was both a weight off of her shoulders and also a smoother transition into the more hands-on drinks.

"Okay," she mumbled under her breath, "vodka special. Easy. I'll make that first."

_Ice. Vodka. Soda. Wedge of lemon. Wedge of lime. Done. Next!_

Her hands fumbled to gather the ingredients for the next one. Whiskey sour. She found the lemon juice and the water and the sugar but stopped short when the bourbon wasn't where she put it. The speed at which her eyes danced across the counters was both inhuman and pointless.

When she did spot the bottle, it was in between Dean's easy fingers as he leaned against the top of the bar, chatting with a patron like he had all night. Lena snatched the bottle from his fingers and didn't bother wasting time to see him look over at her coolly to say,

"Can we get a vodka martini with olives over here, Bunny?" He wasn't being serious, she knew. Poor guy was just trying to catch himself from getting caught in a the claws of a cougar. That kitty had his tongue tied in knots.

In answer, Lena put the whiskey sour in Dean's hand and moved on to the Tom Collins. It was always the more confusing orders that she liked to take her time mixing up. A smile spread across her face as she filled the shaker with ice first then leveled off the gin, combining lemon juice and sugar next. Dean prepped a Collins glass filled with ice and slid it across the counter towards her just as she put the shaker through the cocktail mixer.

"This," Lena pointed at the glass he had sent her way with a toothy grin, "This is why you're my favorite, Dean-o."

"I know, sweetheart," was his liquid-candy response as he turned back into conversation with the cougar who just wouldn't let him get back to work.

Lena playfully elbowed Dean in the side before going back to pouring the drink that had been consuming her attention, trying desperately to not wear this drink as well. With steady hands she placed the drink on a coaster in front of an elderly man.

"Here you go Roger, one perfectly made Tom Collins if I do say so myself." She stated with a satisfied smile, leaning up against the counter and drumming her fingernails on the bar top waiting for his reply.

"I'll be the judge of that." He replied, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a slow sip, with a nod of approval, "Just what I needed to wet my whistle." He said, letting out a low whistle.

She chuckled at him while wiping up the remnants of liquor that had spilled out of the glass. "You want me to put this on your tab, Roger?" She asked, looking over her shoulder only to notice that the female patron that had been capturing Dean's attention was busy primping herself and pulling down her shirt while Dean was turned around to help another patron.

_Damn cougars_, they had always been Dean's one weakness, an older woman who knew exactly what she was doing and was always three sheets to the wind.

Roger cleared his throat, pulling Lena out of her thoughts, "I'm sorry, Roger, tab?"

The old man nodded his head and went back to nursing his drink and listening to the music playing from the jukebox.

Lena turned her attention back to the cougar who was now practically spilling out of her shirt, she was running her finger along the rim of the glass impatiently waiting for Dean to turn back around. When he did, his eyes dropped to her shirt line.

Dean couldn't help himself. He blamed it on the testosterone.

He tried his best to look away, wiping down the bar in an attempt to appear busy, but her plunging v-neck was making it hard to focus on anything else. On any normal given circumstance he would have openly hit on her, but they weren't exactly alone. Lena was there, and he had enough sense to not scar her for life. He licked his lips and went to walk away but the cougar was desperate, frustrated, and refused to take no for an answer anymore. She laid a hand on his arms, and leaned up and over the bar, whispering sweet sultry little nothings into his ear.

Lena, who had been trying to keep herself busy with cleaning glasses, saw what was happening at the opposite end of the bar. The cougar was getting a little handsy. Too handsy for Lena's liking. And, when she saw the little facial expressions on Dean's face and heard the little noises coming from his mouth, she knew his every growing libido was going to be the death of him.

It was now or never. Her friend needed her. And besides, she had always wanted an excuse to kiss Dean anyway.

Lena walked over to Dean only to see the woman sit back up in her seat giving Lena a death glare. A death glare that Lena would have laughed at but chose to ignore. Lena ran her fingernails across Dean's back, and came directly to his side wrapping her arm around his waist. He looked down at her, eyes still full of lust and desire as well as confusion. In the heat of the moment Lena stood on her toes and placed a tender kiss on his lips lingering for a comfortable amount of time before pulling away. Dean just stared at her now definitely confused as hell,

"Dean-o, _baby_, I need a Rob Roy, a Tequila Sunset, and two shots of Patròn."

Dean was still in shock and didn't say anything at first, but then looking back at the cougar who was clearly pissed. His gaze returned down at Lena, slipping a hand around her back and giving her a playful slap on the ass.

"Sure thing, Bunny-baby." Dean placed a gentle kiss on her lips, thumb scraping across her chin, and walked away.

Lena made sure to face the cougar before giggling enthusiastically like a school-girl. "Check, ma'am?"

After the cougar was gone, suppressing rage behind a grim scowl, Lena went back to the mixing bar and stood beside Dean.

"Hey…" he said almost like a question.

"Hey," Lena replied. She couldn't exactly look at him right at that moment, didn't know what she would say if she did.

"So, I already filled the order for the Rob Roy and the Tequila Sunset, but I couldn't find whoever ordered them." Dena held up both drinks in his hands.

"Oh, thanks I needed that." Lena said taking one of the drinks from Dean and clinking it against the other glass, downing it like there was nothing to it.

Dean just watched her in amazement, slowly downing his own drink soon after. Things had slowed down and they were the only ones still left in the bar, save a few stragglers soliciting outside of the building.

"So, I wanted to thank you for your help back there." Dean said glancing over at Lena.

"Not a problem Dean-o, what are good friends for?" She walked behind him, hand resting on his ass for a split second before giving it a squeeze, eliciting a small moan to escape from between his lips. Leaning up to whisper in his ear, "I've always got your back, baby," Lena bit down on his earlobe with a tug and walked toward the tables to pick up empty bottles.

Dean smiled, chuckling to himself as his fingers skimmed across his ear where he still felt her breath fan across. Good friends, his ass! The way she was leaned over that table, swiping it clean while looking back at him, was _not_ what friends did. Dean didn't have very many friends but he knew that for certain. She made sure he found her gaze before dragging her eyes up and down his build, winking with a devilish smirk.

He _could _have gotten back to work busing the opposite end of the bar. He could have tucked his Rubbermaid tote box with the reinforced rims under his arm and cleared the beer bottles on the bar top. He would have been able to close up shop early and go home to his lumpy mattress and extended collection of Tom Selleck movies.

Dean _could_ have done any of those things but he decided to saunter over to the jukebox, fish out a quarter, and flip through the selections. The self-satisfied smile on his face spread across the full extent of his face when he found the right one.

_Hot-Blooded_ by Foreigner.

It was perfect.

As soon as the first few chords rumbled out of the speakers, Lena paused her hands and stood up straight, hiding the grin on her own face. "Oh no. No, you didn't."

"Better believe it!" Dean snapped his fingers and swayed his hips to the music, holding one hand out for her to take.

"I can't dance, Dean," she laughed at the way he waggled his eyebrows.

"Neither can I," he replied loudly over the music, kicking the air and tilted his head enthusiastically while singing along. "_Well, I'm hot-blooded, check it and see!_" His hands smoothed over his chest seductively though his eyes were bright with a mischievous glimmer. "_I got a fever of a hundred and three!_"

Dean motioned to her with both hands, still singing at the top of his lungs. "_Come on, baby, do you do more than dance?_"

Tossing down the dirty rag down on the table, Lena surrendered and took his hand, pumping her fist in the air and whipping her hair back and forth, singing just as loud and as off-key as Dean was. "_You don't have to read my mind to know what I have in mind! Honey, you oughta know. Now you move so fine, let me lay it on the line._" She bumped his hips with her own, grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling him closer to her for the next line, eyes locked. "_I wanna know what you're doin' after the show!_"

Dean made sure to close the space between them, still moving to the music. "_Now it's up to you, we can make a secret rendezvous._" He stopped entirely and leaned in so his lips brushed against her ears as he spoke in little more than a whisper. "_Just me and you, I'll show you lovin' like you never knew._"

A crooked smile twisted at one side of Lena's mouth as she leaned back to look him in the eye. "I'm holding you to that, Dean-o!"

"Yeah?" His eyebrows waggled again.

Lena shrieked in laughter and Dean grinned at the sight.

"_If it feels alright,_" she cocked her head to the side with attitude,"_maybe you can stay all night._" Lena's body acclimated to the music, body moving in more rigid ways against Dean's. She was filled to the brim with coy smiles, bedroom eyes, and more liveliness than she had ever put out in years. It felt refreshing to wind down for just one night.

"_Yeah I'm hot blooded, check it and see_," Dean grabbed her hands and ran her fingers down his toned abs, the corners of his mouth digging deeper into his cheeks. "_Feel the fever burning inside of me_."

Suddenly, the music stopped and Lena and Dean turned their heads toward the jukebox. A group of old men stood looking skeptically, eyes clearly conveying that they were judging the two bartenders. Roger stood at the head of the group, the plug to the jukebox in his hand.

"We're too old for this shit." He said, throwing the plug down and shuffling toward an open table with his friends following. "Hey. Hey, you! pretty boy," he pointed at Dean and motioned him closer, "put those muscles to good use and put these tables together, will ya?"

Lena ushered Dean toward them and watched as he pushed four tables into a square, his muscles and his veins playing on his forearms. It was a Five-Star show.

"What'll you handsome gentlemen be having?" She asked.

"Told you she was a catch," Roger nudged his friend, pushing Dean out of the way so he could sit down. "Beers all around, sweetheart."

Lena smothered a laugh and went back behind the bar, absently swiping away a lemon wedge.

Breathless, but smiling, Dean came around and braced his body against the counter with one hand. Lena continued to grab beers from the cooler, and he just watched her move with smooth precision and grace all without fumbling. He had only been working there for the last six months and it had taken him four of those six months before he was finally able to fill an order correctly and whip out a beer bottle without breaking any of them. Drinking beer was definitely easier to do then it was to serve it, but he needed the money. He had taken a small respite from hunting after his dad let him go off on his own. Dean wanted to see what normal was like, to taste the apple pie life that Sam was always rambling on and on about.

Lena had been the first face to greet him when he had walked through the doors of the bar, he had sauntered over to the bar top and laid on the old Winchester charm pretty thick.

*****6 Months Back*****

"_What can I get for you?" The bartender asked, eyes matching the warm amber color of the fine bottle of whiskey between her fingers. She had a smile that could clearly light up even the darkest corners of the room._

"_What do have, Bunny?" Dean replied, folding his hands on the top of the bar, cocking his head to the side, and flashing his super sexy smile that would have made a lesbian fan herself._

"_Okay, flyboy, first off the name's Lena not Bunny. And I've got Jim, Jack, Johnny, and Jose four of the most reliable men I know. And if whiskey or tequila is too hard for you I . . ." _

_He cut her off with a smirk. "Bunny, baby," he said, as she shot him an irritated look, "nothing is too hard, at least…not yet." _

_She licked her upper lip, catching on to his innuendo. The nerve of this guy! Granted he was sexy as hell. She closed the gap between them and leaned over the bar top, lips mere centimeters from his. _

_Damn this is too easy, Dean thought to himself._

"_Well then, I know exactly what you need!" She whispered against his mouth seductively, sending chills down through Dean's body._

"_Mmmm," Dean moaned, "what is that?" _

_She batted her eyelashes and a smile splayed across her lips as she inched further into his space. She reached down to grab something from underneath the bar, and when she brought her hand back up, Dean felt the icy cold sensation of a pitcher of ice water being poured over his head._

"_I think you need to cool off." She said, before turning around to take the order of another patron. Dean stormed out, pissed, and sopping wet. But not before turning around to get another good look at the bartender who glanced over her shoulder at him for a brief moment._

*****Present Day*****

Ever since their first encounter with each other, Dean had never tried to hit on Lena like that ever again. He decided to let the cards fall where they may. Dean watched, still leaning up against the counter trying to figure out exactly what to say, as Lena pulled out two more beers from the cooler.

"Dean, stop staring at my ass!" She quipped, and he knew that she was smiling when she had said it.

"Sorry," he said with a laugh, rubbing a hand down over his head and across his face. He went to move closer to her as she stood up bumping into her causing a bottle to crash to the floor, "shit, Lena, I'm sorry," he said as he crouched down to pick up broken glass that was scattered on the floor.

"Dean, don't worry about it, I'll get that later." She pulled him up with both hands gripping his collar, as she slowly pulled himself to his feet.

His hands ran against her bare legs and then up her hips. And Lena closed her eyes, just to feel his rough fingertips on her skin, and the sensation burning beneath them. His calloused hands rested on her hips as he stood to his full height. Her eyes were still closed as she waited for his next move. Or maybe he was waiting for hers?

She opened her eyes and saw him mere inches from her face, and all she wanted to do was grab him and kiss him senseless, to feel his hands exploring her skin, and his soft full lips. But they were still at work, so she turned around and Dean got a mouthful of her hair. She leaned down back into the cooler too grab another beer. His hands were still on her hips and she lifted her hands, nudging him out of the way so she could get the beer to Roger and his friends.

"So, I thought you said you don't dance." Dean said leaning up against the cooler arms crossed his chest emphasizing the muscles in his arms.

"No, I said that I couldn't dance not that I don't dance. I took ballet lessons when I was younger and found out early that I sucked at it."

"Ballet, huh? So, that means you're pretty flexible, right?" Dean said sticking his tongue out and nodding his head with a cocky smile, eyebrows raised.

"Perv!" Lena chuckled out, popping off the tops to the beer bottles one right after the other.

"Hey, I just remember that I was promised 'lovin' like I never knew'." He closed the gap between them, hands resting on either side of her on the countertop, locking her in.

"Actually, if memory serves me right, I was promised that," she said smiling, turning around and bringing her hands up to his chest and dragging them down feeling his toned muscle flex under her touch. "Besides Dean, you couldn't handle all this for one night only." She said as her fingertips teasing his skin under his shirt right above his waistband, running her tongue over her teeth and then biting down on her lip. Dean's ever growing libido was on the rise again.

"Hey, pretty boy!" Roger yelled, Dean was still looking down at Lena as her fingers dipped lower into the front of his jeans, but not far enough down for his liking.

"Yeah." Dean responded eyes never leaving Lena, his voice dark with lust.

"How about you release her long enough so we can get some drinks over here?" Roger shouted, eyes shooting judgment bullets right into Dean's soul.

"I think, she's the one that needs to do the releasing, Roger." Dean said out loud, and Lena smiled before her hand retreated.

She stood on her toes and whispered in his ear. "To be continued." She smirked and pulled away, grabbing a tray of beers and heading over to the group.

Dean stood there hot and bothered, giving himself time to calm down before adjusting himself. Lena placed the tray down on the table as the men attacked the beer like vultures. Roger held out a wrinkled hand for Lena to take, as he nursed his drink. She took his hand in hers as he pulled her over to him, coiling his arm around her slender waist. With a skillful, though shaky, hand, he placed a twenty in the pocket of her apron. In return, Lena sent a smile of thanks his way without saying a single word, placing her own hand on his shoulder comfortably.

"So, you and pretty boy over there…" Roger began tilting his head in Dean's direction curiously, "are you a thing, now? 'Cause I remember six months ago you and he were like oil and vinegar. Didn't quite mix very well."

"Roger, you know that you are the only man in my life." She said with a warm smile, laughing off his question, not really wanting to answer him, and picking up the empty beer bottles the other elderly gentlemen had finished off.

"I'm serious, little darlin', things seemed pretty serious between you two when we walked in. All caught up in each other's eyes or what not. Whatever it is you kids are into today."

"Honestly, I'm not really sure what we are…" Lena lowered her voice so Dean wouldn't hear, "but we were just dancing. You know, trying to unwind a little that's all."

Roger's brother Clay, who had overheard the entire discussion from the next seat over, decided that the conversation wasn't complete without adding his own two cents into the mix. "I wouldn't say Foreigner is the right band to 'unwind' to unless you want to wake up in the morning sore in someone else's bed." He looked up at Lena with a devilish smirk, warm eyes shining. "You know babe, I always thought that you and I might…"

"Woooo," Lena fanned herself with a dishrag, giving Clay a little hip check to his shoulder, while Roger hit his brother none too gently upside the head. "Clay, you're too hot for me," she said, trying to cover the small blush spreading across her cheeks.

"I'm a classic, babe," Clay rubbed the back of his head, "still got a lot of good miles left. Speaking of classics, hey, pretty boy,"

Dean looked up, trying to stifle a laugh from the conversation that had been going on over at the table.

"That your car outside? The Chevy Impala."

Dean dried his hands on the corner of his apron, grinning ear to ear, and made his way over to the men currently occupying the tables.

"Yes sir, it is. You know anything about cars?" He asked basking in the moment, or any moment that he was able to get to talk about his coveted Baby.

"Boy, I'm seventy-six years old." Clay retorted, lifting his beer to his lips. "I was around before that car of yours rolled off the line."

"Clay, give the boy a break," Roger joked laying a calm hand on his brother's shoulder. "He was only asking you a question. Besides you and I've been around since the stone age. Since then we've created fire and the wheel."

"The '67 Impala is nothing compared to the '67 Shelby." Clay mumbled beneath his breath, trying to get a reaction out of Dean.

And it worked.

"With all due respect sir," Dean snorted, a scowl spreading across the full expanse of his face, "my Baby could drive circles around the Shelby."

"You wanna race for pinks, lover boy?" Clay pushed further with a frown, turning beet red from agitation.

"I wouldn't want to take advantage of an old man." Dean spat.

"Alright boys, let's calm down now." Lena quickly intervened in an attempt to avoid them both whipping it out and measuring them right then and there. She placed a gentle hand on Clay's shoulder before retreating to grab the check for all the men at the table, pulling Dean back with her.

After Roger and the other men of his party had left the bar for the night, Dean went around locking up all the doors and switched off the open sign to signal the end of the work day. The dishes were all cleaned, everything was stocked and ready for tomorrow. So he took the liberty to slowly make his way back behind the bar to make a couple of after work shots. After the argument earlier with Clay, drinks were definitely needed.

Lena found herself staring at the music selection in the jukebox, taking her time before settling on something simple and slow.

Adele's "Make You Feel My Love."

She dragged the tables apart and wiped them down, turning off all the other lights in the bar except the white Christmas lights that they had neglected to take down. As she picked up orphaned bottles she swayed back and forth to the music, sashayed over to the recycling box. Dean looked up to see her still swaying to the music. Even watched as she rubbed her neck and pulled a pen from the messy bun situated on the top of her head.

Lena began to fill out the paperwork for the night as Dean came up behind her and, like earlier, placed his head on her shoulder and snaking an arm around. Rewarding her with a shot glass.

She turned around to look him directly in the eyes, lifting her eyebrows as he raised his other hand in the air which held a bottle of Jack Daniel's. Clinking the bottle against his own shot glass, Dean's smile reached his eyes, hopeful that she might agree and share a drink with him.

Three shots in, Dean had her laughing at every joke he offered up. Even the horrible ones. _God _he loved her smile and hearing her laugh.

It was as intoxicating as the drinks they were filling themselves with.

She went to get up off the bar stool in an attempt to finish the paperwork she had previously started, but instead tripped over her own two feet and stumbled right into Dean's arms.

"Maybe you should just relax a little longer." Dean suggested, staring down into her eyes.

And that's when Dean knew. He was going to give her everything. All his love. All his time. All his energy. He wanted to work on her and make her smile and have her spread out under him, flushed and swollen.

"I'm not drunk. Just clumsy and I can't. If I relax any longer it won't get done."

"I could finish it for you."

"No offense, Dean but you suck at paperwork."

"Hey, I'm just saying you still seem pretty tense you know."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Are you saying that I'm too uptight?"

Dean paused for a moment, mulling over his word choice carefully before pursing his lips together and cocking his head.

"Yes…that's exactly what I'm saying," he said, shuffling her back toward the bar stool and picking her up a little to place her back on it. "In fact…" Dean started moving closer filling the gap between them. "You're tense here," he kissed her neck.

Lena eyes closed almost immediately, delighting in the feeling of his lips brushing against the sensitive curvature on her throat. He moved his mouth up to her jaw, feeling the rigid shiver that tightened her arms around his neck.

She was floating on clouds. She bit her bottom lips to hold in the moan that came from those sharp throbs of lust spiraling through her chest and right to her clit. He was just..._so_ good.

"You're way too tense here." His hands moved from her waist to her arms, and his lips slowly ascended from her jaw to her ear as he whispered, "maybe we can relieve some of that tension," as he pulled back, searching her face for any reason to stop.

When all she did was stare up at him, a fire burning in her eyes, Dean's palms pressed hard against her hip, leaning in to brush his lips over hers. Lena tried desperately to catch her breath, but Dean's tongue begged entrance inside her mouth and she finally caved. Her fingers carded through his absurdly soft hair.

"Maybe we should go someplace private?" Lena whispered between breaths as Dean continued his assault of kisses. "Maybe your place?" She suggested which made Dean pause mid-kiss.

Lena thought she might have said something wrong. If she was going to be completely honest with herself, she wasn't even sure why she had suggested it in the first place.

It was just the heat of the moment.

Dean looked up, unsure of what to say. He kicked himself on the inside...he had waited for this moment for so long. She could see the uncertainty in his face, and bit her lip completely embarrassed yet a little disappointed.

"We don't have too...sorry," she said, trying to push past him. "I completely forgot that I have a ton of paperwork that actually has to get done tonight."

He hung his head and closed his eyes, one hand on his hip, and the other reaching out to stop her. "Let's get out of here. The paperwork can wait til tomorrow. I did promise you a good time earlier and I always keep my promises."

Lena offered up a small smile before grabbing her bag and turning off the lights to the bar, exiting right behind Dean.

When they got to his apartment, Dean went to unlock the door and mentally kicked himself for not taking the time to clean up earlier. Tidying up the arsenal that now littered the kitchen table was the last thing on his mind as he was rushing out the door this morning.

"Shit!" Dean whispered underneath his breath.

Maybe she wouldn't notice. Maybe she was the kinky type of girl who liked to do it with the lights offs. She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, placing kisses on the back of his neck.

_Screw it!_ Dean thought as he flung open the doors. She stumbled in behind him kicking the door closed with her feet. He peeled her jacket off of her shoulders and she ran her hands up and down his chest, lips never parting from one another, battling for dominance. Dean backed her up against the table and Lena's hand fell behind her to grasp the edge, only to find the handle of a machete. She pulled back from Dean, leaving him confused of her actions and horny as hell. Lena looked at him quizzically, but it was more of a look of curiosity than one of fear.

"Do a lot of hunting do you?" She asked, inspecting the knife fully and rotating it in her hands. Dean felt his heart stop, and his lungs fall into the pit of his stomach. His words came out slow and precise while he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You could say that hunting is sort of the family business."

Lena looked from the machete and back to Dean before placing the it back onto the table. "Well, lucky for you I think hunting is sexy as hell." she replied, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. She viciously attacked his lips, the alcohol flowing through her veins, pumping her system full of adrenaline. Possessing her to do all the things she would have refrained from doing. She dragged her nails along his toned chest leaving little red vertical scratches while his hands weaved throughout her hair, pulling her closer to him. As Dean danced them over to the bed Lena couldn't help but cry out in terror as her knees hit the side of the bed and she fell backwards, bringing Dean down with her. He landed on top of her with an _oomph _as their heads knocked together.

"Ow, smooth move!" Lena winced and squeezed her eyes shut, clapping her hand onto her forehead. Dean quickly lifted himself up on his hands and knees, his body hovering above her. He raised one hand to gently brush his fingertips across her forehead and down along her temple. "Are you okay?"

His voice low and filled with genuine concern and something else Lena couldn't quite put her finger on. Wasn't like she could think soundly anyway above the ringing in her ears. As if the alcohol wasn't enough, she had to have her bumped her head.

"Yeah, guess I was just falling for you." she slurred slightly. _God, that was corny_, she thought to herself.

"Yeah, head over heels apparently." Dean answered and helped her to sit up slowly.

When she was in an upright position she looked around the room still rubbing her head, noticing that in the fog of lust and desire they had left a trail of clothes from the door to the bedroom. She looked over at Dean and noticed the scratches along his chest, he followed her gaze.

"You're an animal." He said raising his eyebrows and running his hand over his chest, tracing the scratches.

They were both pretty smashed and, if they continued, it might be all fun and games and drunk sex tonight. But in the morning it would be filled with regret and feelings and tears, and Dean didn't do chick flick moments. It might complicate things. And they had come too damn far to screw things up now.

Dean grinned wolfishly again. "Six months ago, this would have been my wildest fantasy. You naked. In my bed."

She placed a hand on his face and he turned his head, pressing his lips to her palm.

"Will you settle for a PG-13 relationship?" Lena asked him, and he couldn't help but laugh. She was absolutely perfect, "I'm not asking for anything cheesy or cliched. I don't want you to buy me chocolates or flowers or anything. I just want you."

"Then I'm all yours," he said as she simply smiled up at him as he leaned down and kissed her.

Deeply.

Passionately.

Without hesitation.

"Come on," he leaned her back on the bed, pulling back the covers, "you can stay over tonight, you're gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning."

He stood to go into the other room to pick up the arsenal on the kitchen table, but she reached out to take his hand.

"Wait, Dean, are you leaving?" She mumbled underneath her breath, blinking sleep back long enough to make sure he'd stay.

He smiled, gliding over to the other side of the bed and getting under the covers with her. "Don't tempt me."

Fighting back a yawn, Lena curled up against his chest and never felt so comfortable. It might have been the effects of the alcohol or the long day's work. But she liked to think that lying there snuggled against Dean, feeling his chest rise and fall and his heart beating faster under her ear, was what truly made her feel content at that moment.

Then again, she was going to have to wake up with a bitch of a hangover in the morning.

* * *

**Author's Note: Heyo guys! Be sure to check out some of MicroPoe10's work! She is REALLY good at writing Dean. No lie. I've wanted to just cry out of delight because it's so good. We hope you enjoyed reading Part One!**


	2. Chapter 2

Lena blindly patted the cold bed sheets beside her the next morning. When she didn't feel Dean, she buried her head under the pillow and lay sprawled over the bed, one leg hanging off the side. Her temples throbbed at the very feel of the sun streaming out the window, kissing freckles on her exposed forearm.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty." Dean's voice rang in her ears and he smacked her ass.

"Herrrmg!" Lena groaned in opposition, tightening the pillow over her head. "Could you turn the volume down?"

"Nope."

"I hate you."

The bed creaked as it accommodated his weight, and Lena felt him spread his body over hers. "I brought you Ibuprofen."

"Doesn't work." Her voice was obscured in the sheets. "Myth."

Dean's chuckle rumbled from his chest and into Lena's ribs. She felt every contour of his body fit perfectly into hers and every inch of warmth in his skin smothered the coldness of her own. His head rested in the dip between her shoulders, and he let out a long breath.

"What?"

Dean raised his head just enough to kiss the nape of her neck. "I have to open up the bar in twenty minutes."

Lena laughed as audibly as she could without her head pounding in pain. "Sucks to be you, baby."

"Yeah," he lamented, "I won't be able to see you for, like, four whole hours."

She lifted her head from under the pillow and propped herself up on her elbows, looking back at him. "I guess we're gonna have to make up for those four hours in twenty minutes, don't we?"

A wolfish grin spread across Dean's face. Lena twisted around on her back, sinking into the sheets under him, her hair fanning across the white pillows.

"Take me," she daintily brought the back of her hand to her forehead, arching her back dramatically with a wry smile. "Take me now, Dean. Just do it! But oh, for the love of God, do it quick!"

Dean's unwavering desire to make her happy within a twenty minute time constraint faded. He decided to enjoy the moment for what it was in however many minutes they had and kissed her, sweet and soft. Lena parted his lips and came in close enough to bite down on his bottom lip.

"You gonna let go?" He asked after a few seconds.

She shook her head but soothed over the assaulted area with a kiss anyway, adding, "I'm not all for telling people what to do - "

Dean made a face as if to say _I don't think you got that quite right_.

"But," she continued with a short laugh, "you should start getting ready for work."

He nuzzled kisses into the underside of her jaw and murmured into the sweet scent of her neck, "ten more minutes."

Griping a handful of his shirt, Lena pulled Dean up closer, hooking her ankles around the back of his knees. She failed at an attempt to smother a laugh into the kiss, throwing her head back into the pillow.

"What?"

She grinned and ran her hands across his shoulders, feeling the warmth right under the thin fabric. "Nothing," she raised one shoulder, shaking her head and carding her fingers through his hair, tousling it so it looked like he had just woken up.

Lena loved it. She craned her neck down to kiss the underside of his chin, nuzzling against the crook of his neck before peppering more clumsy kisses along his jaw and up to the corner of his mouth. In turn, the tip of Dean's finger brushed shapes into the soft skin above her breasts.

"Come with me."

Her head tilted in curiousity. "What?"

"Come to the bar with me."

"That would mean getting up," Lena started, entwining her fingers through the spaces in his, "and putting clothes on. And walking."

"I'll carry you." His soft voice seemed to wisp across her face.

A cheshire grin curled across Lena's face. "I can dig that."

And so Lena did get up and she did throw some clothes on. They were the same jeans as yesterday but she was more than happy to borrow one of Dean's shirts. It was a Kansas Jayhawks shirt and he briefly mentioned that it was his favorite. Lena wore it proudly. She jumped on his back, hooking her legs around his waist, and wrapped her arms around his neck while resting her chin on his shoulder like he always loved doing to her.

"You go to KU?" She asked as he went down the stairs to exit the apartment building.

"Huh?"

"Did you go to Kansas University? You know, Jayhawks?"

Dean shook his head, bending down so she could twist the knob to the front door for him to prop open with his foot to get through. "I was born in Kansas. Hometown loyalty."

"Mmmm," she hummed by his ear.

"Did you go to college?"

"For a little while. Religious studies didn't agree with me." Lena's words were slightly obscured since one side of her face was pressed against his shoulder lazily. "People round here don't do too well with Bible thumpers mixing their drinks so I dropped out. Killed two birds with one stone with that decision."

"If it's any consolation," he pressed his lips against the palm of her hand, "you're the sexiest, most perfect drink mixer to me. And you could easily give any of those guys in there a run for their money."

"You're sweet. Bet you taste even better," she whispered, licking the sensitive spot near his ear and combining it with a kiss.

Dean stumbled over his own two feet as he desperately felt the walls for the light switch. While he began opening the bar up, Lena had climbed off his back and disappeared into the office in the back to grab the deposit and register bags for the day. The bar was a little stuffy, almost claustrophobic, and Dean rushed to turn on the fans. He situated himself in front of one, feeling the cool air circulating against his body and rushing past him into the rest of the room. Lena walked out into the main bar, bags in hand and laughed seeing Dean's hair and shirt blowing in the breeze like one of the actors on _Baywatch_.

"It's like a sauna in here," Dean smiled still rooted in front of the fan, "must have forgotten to keep these on last night in our rush to get out the door."

Lean laughed, shaking her head as she pushed Dean behind the bar, and handed him the bags before turning on her heel and flipping the switches to all the games and the television.

"Hey," Dean made his way over to the register, dropping the bags on the counter. "I thought I was opening up the bar, you know I don't get paid if you do all the work for me."

"Sorry. Force of habit." She replied with a short laugh, practically skipping toward the door and looking over to Dean expectantly. Her hand was held out and she impatiently snapped her fingers. "Give me the keys."

Dean reached his hand over across the bar and stopped just above her open hand before spinning the keychain around his finger and pulling back. Astonished at what he had just done, Lena scoffed in surprise as he continued to twirl the key ring and walk around the bar to the main door.

"Dean, come on give me the keys." She rolled her eyes, kicking one leg out with her hands on her hips. When his only response was to throw her a smug grin, Lena sprinted up the stairs to the door and plastered herself against it. "If I can't do it then you can't either."

Dean raised his eyebrows, curiosity heightening. "You know, if I don't unlock the door I can't open the bar... And then all of this would have been for nothing. We could've stayed in bed all day watching movie, done a couple extra-curricular activities."

He ran his tongue along his bottom lips, inching closer, taking a deep breath, and blowing into her face so the loose strands of her hair cleared out of her face. Lena blinked back in surprise at the sudden gust of air and didn't even register that he had unlocked the door and dragging it open. All she knew that she was in a freefall and she wasn't even moving at all. Noticing her buffer, Dean pocketed the keys, and threw her over his shoulder. Lena squealed out in protest as she shut her eyes and clung to the back of Dean's shirt with a vice like grip as he walked around the room pulling the string to the open sign to announce that the bar was now open for business. He set Lena down on a barstool and drifted back to the cash register to wrap up the opening routine.

"You ass!" Lena tried her hand at being mad but couldn't help but let that amused smile sneak into her face.

Dean rolled his eyes like what he did was the funniest thing in the world and chuckled to himself, turning his attention back to the cash register that was giving him problems. He really wished sometimes that he could shoot the damn thing but bringing a gun into the bar might raise some questions. The register started beeping when Dean tried to open the drawer.

"_What the hell," _he mumbled under his breath, pressing another button but the result was always the same annoying beep.

"Did you break my register?" Lena asked looking back at him after doing a little channel surfing. When he slapped his hand upside the register and pounded on the keys and threatened to unplug the stupid thing, Lena stepped up to intervene any harm that might befall the little machine.

"Wait, wait look. Think of it as if it was a woman." Lena said her chest coming up against Dean's back, pushing her arms around his sides. She stood on her toes whispering into his ear. "A woman needs to be touched just right, caressed gently, with sure strokes in order for her to fully open up," she purred seductively popping the 'p' at the end and pressing a button that had the cash drawer popping out. "See?"

Without another word, Lena went back to perching herself on a barstool and surfing through the channels, muttering obscene comments at the continuous string of commercials. Dean curled one corner of his lips thoughtfully, scrubbing his hand down over his head and over his mouth, and leaned against the bar across where she was sitting.

"You sure know how to leave a guy hanging high and dry."

Only her eyes tore away from the television screen and a shit-eating grin brightened her face. "I know. Make me a drink?"

"It's only," Dean checked the time on his watch, "ten in the morning. Only pirates drink this early."

"Argh," she made a claw with her hand and watched intently while he cleared his workspace with a damp dishrag. "Vodka, grapefruit juice? Greyhound?"

Dean nodded as he leveled off the amount of vodka and grapefruit juice into a Collins glass and slid it to her.

"Can I have a wedge of lime too? For garnish."

"You so demanding," he laughed, sliding a lime wedge into the glass.

"No," Lena frowned playfully, "I wanted the lime on the rim."

"Are you messing with me?"

"Oh, Dean-o, I'd like to." Lena stifled back laughter when the bell on the front door chimed and a guy filed into the bar. He was covered in transmission liquid and engine grease. Lean couldn't help but breathe in the smell. It reminded her of home. Kinda.

"What can I get for you?" Dean started to move down the extent of the bar in hopes that the new patron would sit away from Lena.

The guy silently contemplated the empty seating until situating himself next to Lena, shyly looking at her still profile then at his folded hands. Pulling the tongue of his trucker cap up over his hairline, he sniffed and began,

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

Lena smiled slyly, realizing that this was a perfect opportunity to get under Dean's skin just a little bit. "Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

Before the guy could even answer, Dean commandeered the conversation. "Can I get you a drink? Anything?"

"Whiskey and a whiskey, and a BLT on rye."

"I, too," Lena chimed in with a wicked grin, "would like a BLT on rye, barkeep."

Dean gave her a dirty look and unwillingly started to pour whiskey into a regular glass and then into a shot glass. After sliding the drinks down, Dean started on the bread, pulling it out from the bag at a leisurely place in the hopes that the guy would complain about the slow service and never come back again. Once the first sandwich was nicely made, he reached into the bag for the next two slices only to find that the bag was empty. So Dean wandered back to where Lena was laughing over-enthusiastically at what the grease monkey had said.

"Sorry, we're all out of rye bread." Dean started as politely as possible. "Would one of you be willing to change?"

"I will." Lena said. "I'm not sure which one I want to replace though. BLT's taste _really_ good on rye."

Dean smirked, coming in close. "Which one is your favorite?"

Lena made a show of crossing her legs tight and squirming uncomfortably in her seat, pushing out her chest just enough for both men to notice. "You choose, handsome."

"You, uh, seem like the type of girl who puts all her men in a row." Dean was leaning in closer and talking just in a whisper so his breath fanned across her face.

"Uh huh," she replied, "like ducks."

"And one by one, you'll shoot them in the heart, won't you, sweetheart?"

"Like ducks," she confirmed.

The guy who had watched the entire encounter had turned fifty shades of red all the way up to his ears by the time Lena and Dean took their eyes off of one another. He threw an Alexander Hamilton on the bar top for his drink that sat untouched and was out the door.

"That was quick," Lena nodded in approval and held her hand up for a high-five. "Hey, give me his sandwich. I'm hungry."

Dean laughed as Lena bit into the sandwich. "Promise that I won't tell anyone that you're all bark and no bite."

She wiped the corners of her mouth with her thumb and leaned in close as Dean was wiping down the bar top where the guy had abandoned his drink. "Well, that's not necessarily true. I do bite, just not very hard."

"Oh?" Dean questioned, eyebrows arched.

"Mmmhmm." Lena purred as she backed away far enough then belching inside her mouth, and blowing the air into Dean's face.

Dean closed his eyes and smirked as she let out and infectious laugh. "Mood killer, that's what you are," he shook his head and pushed her back gently so she landed back into her seat. "Aw god. That one burnt my nose hairs off. I think my eyes are watering."

He wiped a fake tears with his the hem of his tee-shirt as he walked away. Lena laughed, throwing the rest of the sandwich in his direction but missing.

By four o'clock in the afternoon, Lena had jumped down off the stool, cracked her back, and worked to stretch the stiffness out of her muscles. She caught the apron that Dean tossed at her when she rounded the bar and proceeded to wash her hands in the sink in preparation for her shift.

Today had already proven to be an exceptionally slow day and Lena was just counting down the hours until it was officially over. She was so busy being distracted by her own thoughts and washing the remaining glasses the filled the sink to catch sight of the small hairline crack in one of the glasses. If she had noticed, she would have thrown it away post haste.

But she didn't.

She lifted the glass from the water and went to rinse it out. Just as she did so, the glass hit the side of the sink and shattered in her hand. Shards of glass crumbled into the dirty clouded water and slid across the floor. But it was the shard of glass that never left her hand that caught her attention.

"SHIT!" Lena growled under her breath in surprise. Blood pooled in the palm of her hand, and a rather large piece still stuck out from her skin. With shaky fingers on her other hand, she pulled at the shard until it was finally out. She let out a breath that she hadn't even been aware that she was holding in. Always having had a low pain threshold, she took sharp intakes of air in hopes that her flushed face would start to cool down. "Son of a bitch."

"Lena?!" Dean shouted running in from the storage room in the back, knife in hand out of habit. He noticed that she was staring down at her hand, which hung loosely into the sink with blood dripping from her fingertips.

Lena looked at him with droopy eyes, pouting her lips. "Someone broke the glass."

Obscurely placing the knife under some old rags on the shelf, Dean took her hand and gently eased her palm under the cold tap water. He used the corner of the clean washcloth to dab at the swollen skin, assessing the gash.

"I don't see any nerve of tendon damage," Dean finally said and grazed the pads of his thumb over her palm.

She sucked in a stream of air between her teeth and shut her eyes in hopes of channeling out the pain.

"Sorry," he apologized, realizing a little too late that he wasn't used to being so gentle. It had always been: patch yourself up as best as you can and get the hell out!

"No, it's okay." Lena sighed, stretching down to reach the first aid kit from the cabinets under the bar. Rummaging through the plastic box, she grabbed a square of gauze and put it over the cut, holding her hand out as still as possible. The next part wasn't as easy as she had previously assumed but she used her teeth to get an inch of duct tape separated from the roll before slapping the adhesive in the dip between her thumb and forefinger, wrapping it around her hand a few times.

Though incredulous at first, Dean was impressed by her resourcefulness. Even he wouldn't have used duct tape as a makeshift bandage. The adhesive residue was a bitch to wash off afterward. "I love you," he blurted out.

Lena snorted, popping a couple ibuprofen in her mouth and taking a meager sip of water, and matter of factly answered. "I know."

"Dude, you just Han Solo-ed me." He took a moment to stare at her before stashing the first aid kit back into the cabinets and went around turning off all the lights and the games.

"Dean?" Lena narrowed her eyes, unsure of what he was doing. "What are you doing?"

"Come on. We're getting out of here." Dean turned the latch to the locks and jimmied the door knob to make sure the door was secured.

"Dean, it's only seven-thirty...on a Friday. What if we get another customer?"

"Trust me, we won't?" He threw over his shoulder and pulled the switch to the neon open sign.

She was still skeptical. "How do you know?"

"Thirsty Thursday." He put very simply.

"What?!"

Dean grabbed her hand, mindful of the gash, and ushered her towards the back door. "Thirsty Thursday is the day the majority of people go out to drink, and Friday comes after Thursday." He sighed with exasperation at her look of confusion, continuing to pull her along. "Friday is only for those people who can still remember their names after they've gotten smashed on Thursday. Trust me no one else will be coming through those doors tonight."

"But I've still got paperwork to finish tonight." Lena stood her ground in opposition.

"I've got a warm shower and a soft bed." Dean stated his rebuttal, holding the back door open for her to walk through and offering his hand out for her to take.

"Well," she slowly drew the word out, putting her hand in his, "I guess the paperwork could wait until tomorrow." Just before she went through the door, she got on her toes to press a small kiss against his lips. "Hurry up and lock the door, this back alley smells like butt."

Lena put her injured hand over her nose. She figured that the smell of gauze and duct tape was better than smelling the stench of old garbage and vomit.

"We are definitely going to need a hot shower after this," Dean chuckled, took her hand again, and gestured with his free hand to the overflowing garbage bin belonging to a Vietnamese restaurant on one side of the alley.

"The food there's pretty good."

Dean elbowed her side. "We should eat there one night then."

"Maybe," she made a futile attempt to hide the blush that rose into cheeks. To her, it felt like a flashing neon sign but all Dean saw was the smile she was fighting to control and the rush of color that deepened under her eyes.

"Are you blushing?"

"What? No!" Lena made mistake of meeting his line of sight and doubled over with a deep laugh. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?" He brushed off like he was innocent, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulder instead to pull her close against him.

The entire walk back to his apartment, they went back and forth teasing and commenting on the little observations they didn't have time to notice that morning. Dean thought it'd be awesome if he hung upside down on a low tree branch so he could kiss Lena like Spider Man. Needless to say, he got grass stains on his elbows and his knees on the free fall down.

They read license plate numbers out loud, often slurring their words so the combination of numbers and letters sounded like a real word. They nudged each other back and forth, sharing little smiles and intimate physical contact that most people wouldn't even consider an act of intimacy.

And when they got into the apartment and started kissing each other and blindly turning on the shower, it wasn't all candle light and hushed declarations of love nor was it practiced touches and rehearsed dirty talk. It was trying to be sexy and spontaneous and perfect and taking off each other's clothes on the first try but fumbling miserably. It was trying to be aware of everything that was going on and desperately trying to stay one step ahead.

In reality, it wasn't hot and heavy. It was normal.

Dean almost slipped on a bar of soap and Lena couldn't stop laughing. She was holding her sore stomach and couldn't hide those tears seeping out of her eyes.

All the hot water did that evening was swath Lena and Dean with a warm blanket as they stood against the shower wall kissing each other over and over and over again.

It was Lena running her fingertips across his back, feeling his muscles jump at her touch. It was Dean hesitating and realizing that he was all talk until it came to the nitty gritty. He could rattle off a list of everything he wished he could do to her - all the things that would have her moaning and flushed against his body. But when it came to the time to do those things, Dean went slow. He didn't do it just because she was nervous. He did it because he was scared out of his wits too.

And when the water ran cold, they stepped out into the steam, wrapping themselves in crisp dry towels, each thinking that their night together was nearing an end.

Lena sat down on the edge of the bed drying her hair with a towel. As Dean's experienced fingers managed to work out every knot and aching muscle in her shoulders, beads of water sat still and undisturbed on her bare skin. Dean just couldn't resist himself as he pressed gentle kisses down the side of her neck, biting and licking her skin. Leaning back into Dean's hands, Lena's head tilted to one side, concentrating wholly on his fingers ghosting over her bare body until reaching the knot of her towel. Lena twisted her body far enough to be able to look into Dean's eyes. She thought she'd be strong enough to stand firm under the intensity of his gaze but she folded, eyes falling to his lips then down to her own two hands. Dean tilted his head, catching her lips to crane her face upward, turning her over on her back so he was hovering on all fours over her and wrapping the sheets around them to slowly descend into a series of passionate kisses and promises to be kept.

At the end of the night, Dean held her in his arms and they listened hard for the music playing in the background. But it wasn't smooth jazz or some corny eighties ballad - it was Zeppelin, Foghat, and AC/DC. Dean had sucked in his stomach as much as he could to reach that record player. It didn't help that Lena was pinching his side, resulting in him collapsing back into the bed in defeat.

By the end it was bumping foreheads, hitched laughter, awkward positioning, and lazy thrusting. It was whiskey laced exhales and clumsy groping on top of stubble burned thighs and desperation fueled kisses. It was stifled moans and breathless gasps followed by sated smiles, shameless cuddling, and shy kisses against damp hair.

In the end it was just enough, it was what they needed, and it was what they had to offer to each other in that moment...little bits and pieces of themselves.

Lena looked over at Dean in the pillow next to hers. "I think we might need another shower. The last one was kinda counterproductive."

Dean thought about it for a moment, thinking long and hard and long and hard again. Within seconds they were scrambling toward the shower, stealing kisses that were theirs in the first place and whispering sweet nothings that they knew the other would hear even if they couldn't hear themselves saying.

It was all or nothing and it was together or not at all.


End file.
